Please Don't Ask Me
by jamie2109
Summary: Post War. Harry is married to Ginny, but one night he kisses Draco.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story was inspired by the words of a song entitled 'Please Don't Ask Me' by John Farnham. It's a beautiful, beautiful song. The story is only four chapters long and at the end I will post the lyrics. I hope that you enjoy this little story as much as I enjoyed writing it. You may, however, need a few tissues, we're in for a weepy ride.

Jamie.

xxx

.o0o.

Chapter 1.

"Gin, aren't you ready yet?" Harry calls up the stairs in the age-old tradition of the husband waiting for his wife. Men and women, rituals, rites, customs. Harry's not surprised that he has fallen into them. Adhering to these basic rituals, the small things that make him feel he belongs, gives him a permanence he never had.

"Coming,' returns Ginny's tired voice and Harry sighs. He knows that voice and wonders what price a night out with friends will come to. He knows she doesn't mind a night out, but she's getting close to the birth of their fourth child, and she tires easily these days. Harry wouldn't have insisted they go out tonight; only it's a special occasion. Draco's birthday.

If you'd told him eight years ago, back at school that he would be insisting they attend a Malfoy party, and even looking forward to it, he would have sent you off to St. Mungos.

How things change. They'd been attending them for the last five years. Once the war was over and it was discovered that Draco had no dark mark on his arm and had been acting out of fear for the lives of his parents that terrible night that Albus died, they had both taken a step back from the silly schoolboy grudges and found they had a lot in common.

Too much perhaps.

Ginny makes her way slowly down the stairs and Harry is about to ascend and help her, when he is attacked from behind by a whirlwind screaming, "Daddy!" She's clinging to him, trembling, and with a quick glance at Ginny, he turns, pries her from his legs and picks her up holding her close.

Her arms slide around his neck and they grip with an intensity that he's sure can't be normal for a five year old. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She burrows her little face into his neck and won't answer. "Rosie," Harry begins again, turning to kiss her head. "If you don't tell daddy what's wrong, how can I fix it?"

She mumbles something into his neck that sounds like "Horrid Pierre," and Harry frowns. Pierre is Bill and Fleur's oldest. He's seven years old going on thirty-five. He runs rings around his parents and his grandparents and he's more Delacour than Weasley when he turns on the charm. However, he takes a vicious delight in upsetting Rosie, and tonight he has had to accompany Molly, who was looking after the three Potter children.

"What has he done now, Princess?" Ginny has joined them and drops a kiss on her head too, and mouths to Harry that she will go and sort things out with her nephew.

"He said…" her little voice is shaky and not for the first time does Harry want to throttle that Pierre. "He said I was a bad girl and you would go away and never come back. You won't will you daddy?"

"Never, Princess. How could I ever leave you? I love you and your brothers and I will never leave you."

"Ok, daddy," she sighs a great shuddering sigh and clings tighter to her daddy. Ginny comes back then, with Molly in tow, a worried look on her face, and says that she has reprimanded Pierre.

Harry gently removes the clutching hands of the dark haired beauty in his arms and kisses the tip of her nose. "You are my Princess and you will always be my Princess." Harry's kids mean the world to him and he's sworn that they will never ever think that they are not loved and wanted and safe and protected. "Now, give daddy a smile and go with Nana Molly, I'm sure she has your favourite story to read to you." Little Rosie smiles at Harry and it's like the sun shining through the clouds.

"Love you daddy, you're my hero," she says in her best grown-up voice, before scampering out of his arms and taking hold of Molly's hand, ready for story time. Harry and Molly's eyes meet and she nods and leads Rosie back into the living room.

"It's really not good for her that you let her cling so much to you, Harry," Ginny remarks from by his side.

He turns to her and frowns, "She's five years old Ginny, she can cling whenever she needs to." His voice is colder than he had planned; this is an old argument. Ginny thinks he spoils the kids, but none of his children will ever feel the pain of rejection from him.

"Well, don't blame me if she grows up to be as spoilt and demanding as Draco. I still don't know why you like him so much; he's still the same prat we went to school with, Harry." She's getting waspish now and Harry knows that unless he bites his tongue, he'll have an evening of listening to her whine. Besides, she is pregnant and allowances should be made for mood swings. He loves Ginny, he does, but…

Because, of course, Draco is not the same person he went to school with.

Ginny's continues, "At least he knows how to put on a good do. I'm starved. Can we go now?"

Finally, he thinks, to himself and they head out to the car. Ginny's condition means that they must use conventional means of transport. He doesn't mind this much, it gives him time to think while he's driving, and he finds his mind drifts back to another birthday function three years ago, back to the first time he kissed Draco.

.o0o.

_It's been a fun night, Harry thought. Draco really knew how to put on a party and he was slightly drunk. The food and wine had been perfect, as you would expect from a Malfoy. The company had been even better. He should make sure to tell him, he'd appreciate that. Harry was sitting outside the restaurant in a garden sort of thing that was used for outdoor dining in the summer. It was nice. The skies were clear and the stars were blurry enough that it looked like a mass of white hung about his head like a canopy._

_He giggled at the random thought, and swayed sideways, only to be buffered by a shoulder, a warm shoulder of someone beside him. The warmth made him drop his head onto it comfortably._

"_Penny for them, Harry?"_

"_Penny for what, Draco?"_

"_Your thoughts. You're sitting here giggling like a girl and I wondered what you were thinking."_

_Harry lifted his head from Draco's shoulder and looked at him. Starlight shone in his eyes, and the gentle light softened the angles and planes of his face, and just at that moment, Harry very much wanted to kiss him. _

"_Right now, I'm thinking how much I want to kiss you," Harry replied, the alcohol having banished any embarrassment at the admission. He wasn't drunk enough to miss the flash of pleasure that crossed Draco's face though and so he leant in and joined their lips. It wasn't much of a kiss, as kisses go, Harry was a little too inebriated, but it was perfect, Harry decided. _

_Draco's lips moved against his, kissing him back, drawing him deeper, and it was as if a key had turned in a lock he didn't know he had. The tumblers all fell into place when he felt Draco's tongue slide over his lips and the feeling of opening a door to a whole new emotion slammed into the forefront of his mind. _

_He broke the kiss breathlessly, confusion plain to see on his face, searching Draco's eyes. For a moment he thought he saw bliss deep in those eyes, but the mask soon dropped and it was gone, replaced by the cool Malfoy they all knew._

"_Well, as kisses go, Harry, that was…"_

"_Perfect," Harry whispered, before it sunk in and he blinked and looked away, blushing. "Sorry, I shouldn't…I can't…" _

_"Harry…" Draco started, but Harry had already pushed himself to his feet and walked away, slightly unsteady on his feet._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Harry sighs and nods his head at something Ginny has been saying, but he hasn't heard a word. From the tone of her voice though, it is something derogatory about someone. He doesn't care, he's heard it all before and she expects nothing but an occasional grunt or nod of the head to signify that he's been listening. He wonders sometimes if he suddenly opened his mouth and said that he wanted a divorce whether she would even register what he'd said.

But, he doesn't. There's that whole side of their relationship that he just won't touch because it's out of the question. He will not leave his children, no matter what. Ginny is a good mother, the Weasley's a great extended family and his life was good. It was. If there was something missing, then he'd just had to learn to live with it. There'd been something missing all his life; it was nothing new.

They arrive at the restaurant, Harry not really noticing the décor, just helping Ginny up the stairs and inside. He helps her remove her coat, but his thoughts are on Draco and his eyes search the room for him. It's probably not a good idea, but knowing that, and being able to stop himself from doing it are two different things. He removes his own coat, holding it as he tries to find Draco.

Ginny has moved into the restaurant proper, having spotted Ron and Hermione and a number of the others that inhabit their social lives, but Harry stays where he is for a moment, still looking for the blond head. He tells himself that he doesn't like the crowds and he's preparing himself for the press of flesh against him when he joins them; the handshakes and grins and smiles and pats on the back, shoulder, arm, arse…anywhere they could reach. There must be two hundred people here tonight, and so he feels quite justified in this thought, but really, he needs to see where Draco is, in order to prepare his face and emotions to hide them deep.

Harry Potter finds that he cannot control his racing pulse when Draco Malfoy is near him. At least not without some warning anyway, and even then Draco can completely undo him with a look.

He should have known better, because within a minute of Ginny leaving his side, he feels a presence behind him and familiar hands at his waist. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and dance to the flow of warm air that whispers across them.

"About time you turned up, Potter. We were beginning to think you had been called away to the Hospital." Draco emphasises the 'h' in hospital and a gust of hot breath makes Harry shiver and bite his lip. Not tonight, he tells himself, please, not tonight. He forces a smile onto his face - a smile that says, 'happy to see you, friend' and turns to face Draco.

Draco hasn't changed much since school. He's matured of course, but there is still that ageless beauty about him that will mean that he will reach his later years looking a much younger man. Harry is envious of that, and completely taken in by the way he looks this evening. Preparation or not, Harry cannot keep the appreciative glint from his eyes, and because they are relatively alone, he allows himself to feast on it. Selfishly. Just for a moment.

He watches as Draco's lip curls up at the corner, heading for a smirk, but one that never reaches the same expression of smug righteousness that it exuded back in their school days. For that Harry is grateful, but as he is drawn to those lips he shakes himself and gives a broad smile.

"No, thank God," Harry replies. "Happy Birthday!" He is pulled into a quick hug that surprises him for a moment until he realises that it is quite appropriate for friends to hug, and this is not a hug of lovers, but a hug of friends.

That is until Draco buries his face in Harry's neck for a moment and he can hear the exhalation of a shaky, breathy, "I miss you," that makes all the hairs on his body stand up.

"I know," Harry says just as quietly, and hangs onto him for just a moment longer before releasing him, leaving them standing there, Harry's arms still holding Draco's elbows and Draco's hands resting on Harry's hips.

He looks into Draco's eyes and the smile in them is gone, and replaced by a hurt longing, deep and heartrending and Harry is hard pressed to not say what Draco needs to hear, just to bring the light back into them. But then, slowly the smile returns and the mask falls once more, highlighted by a level of understanding that only makes Harry love him more.

The same one he has seen every time they meet, or touch…

.o0o.

_Two years ago… _

Ginny was in the hospital, having had the twins three days before and was still relishing the rest, away from everyone. Harry had spent his time with little Rosie, thoroughly enjoying her and spoiling her rotten. He had almost decided not to attend Draco's birthday party this year. After last year, he was wary and wondered if it would make things awkward between them if either of them had too much to drink again.

Of course they had seen each other many times since then and had talked about the kiss and put it down to too much alcohol and even laughed about it.

But there had been an underlying darkness about Draco's eyes and an answering hollow feeling in Harry's gut. There had been more to that kiss than either of them was prepared to admit to the other, because, what was the point after all?

Harry had spent the whole evening quietly chatting with friends, congratulating yet another couple on their engagement and thinking that all of his friends were getting married now. He was drinking and generally enjoying himself, but he found himself watching Draco more than he should and the smouldering looks that he received in turn were doing nothing for his resolve. For a moment he wondered why everyone in the room wasn't burning from the looks they were exchanging…or why no one had bothered to notice.

As the evening wore on, Harry found himself with an uncomfortable hard on that no amount of shifting in his chair to try and ease the friction, worked. His drinking had become worse, but conversely is head was as clear as if he were sober, though he knew he wasn't. Then Draco had sugared his end of evening coffee and licked the spoon and it was all Harry could do to stop from coming in his pants. He dare not move, lest the whole room see how affected he was and deep behind the drunken façade, he knew it was wrong, he had children and a wife who had just given birth to twins, he wasn't supposed to be harder than he had ever been in his life over someone else, let alone a man, let alone a Malfoy!

So, he sat where he was, miserable and hard and aching for relief. And he waited for the guests to leave, at least then he could make a dash for the men's room without making a fool of himself. As soon as he was relatively alone and the rest of the guests' attention diverted elsewhere, he stood hurriedly and almost ran to the toilets, throwing himself into a cubicle and closing the door.

His pants were dropped and his aching erection freed in record time and when he closed his fist around his hard length, he groaned and closed his eyes in utter relief. Faster, faster, he told himself, fist speeding up, rubbing over the head as he pulled and he imagined Draco's hands being the ones giving him such pleasure.

So engrossed in his imagination was he, that he failed to hear the door to the toilet opening and then the one to the cubicle. His eyes jerked open when he felt another hand join his, stroking him. Draco was there, his face flushed and he was biting his bottom lip, looking into Harry's eyes.

"You ran in here so fast, I thought you might be ill," he said, his breath seeming to speak for him, as their hands slowed to a stop.

"Draco…?" Harry managed to gasp out before he groaned at the sight of Draco dropping to his knees before him. God, but he was beautiful, he thought and he should stop this, it wasn't right, but it felt so right.

"Harry," Draco whimpered as his thumb pressed into the slit and Harry arched into the hand, and felt like he could come from just the sight of Draco looking up at him with such intense need. "Please…?" he begged. "I want this so much. I've wanted you so much for so long. We can go back to being just friends tomorrow, but tonight, just for tonight…?"

Draco's hand was hot on his erection and Harry really had no defense against him, he realised now. For some reason, Harry wanted him more than he'd ever wanted anyone before. He removed his hand and leant back against the wall, giving Draco a short nod, too charged by arousal to trust himself to speak lest he confess everything.

It was wrong and he knew it, but he seemed incapable of stopping. Things had gone too far now. They were never going to be the same again. He might well be ruining everything he had worked for, but how could he say no when the object of his desire was on his knees in front of him, begging?

Draco uttered a crying sob and latched his mouth around Harry hungrily. Harry's hands flattened back onto the wall as if they were any support in holding him up and his quiet moan of "Yes…" was almost lost in the sucking noises that Draco was making around his erection.

Nothing Ginny had ever done to him had even come close to the sensations he was feeling right now. It was hot and wet and his aching length slid perfectly into and out of Draco's eager mouth. Questions of right and wrong vanished as pure, raw need strode around his body and took hold of every one of his senses.

Draco's tongue was flat against the underside, sliding, slippery yet hard along it and his hand moved of it's own accord to rest on Draco's head, fingers twisting spasmodically in his hair. He made the mistake of looking down, watching as he disappeared into that sucking warmth and his knees began to shake.

He vaguely registered that Draco's hands had moved from his hips and were frantically undoing himself and stroking himself in time with the sucking motions, but really all he could do was concentrate on the amazing things the blond was doing with his tongue and his mouth.

Breath escaped him totally when Draco looked up, caught his eyes and held them, the exchange of emotions from one to the other knocked him completely and his chest was heaving like he was having trouble breathing and he knew that he was about to come; about to spurt straight down Draco's throat.

He gave a small whimper, unable to speak and tugged on Draco's hair. Draco stood and again took Harry's erection in his hand, and Harry's hand dropped into Draco's half undone trousers to grip and stroke the hard, damp flesh he found there.

They stood there; foreheads pressed together, eyes locked, breathing each other's air and knew that this was not a random wank. There was something deeper, fundamentally different about this.

With soft gasps and clenching muscles, they both came almost simultaneously, all hitched breaths and jerky movements until they were both spent and Draco leant against Harry burying his face into Harry's neck.

Harry stood there for a moment to catch his breath and as he did so, some reasoning came back to him and he gently moved Draco off him, and looked at him.

"I'm sorry…"

Draco just looked at him, understanding, but hurt nevertheless. "It's ok," he said. "Just friends, right?"

Harry shook his head, 'No,' but whispered, "Yes," before dressing himself and leaving.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

"Come on, they'll all be waiting," Harry smiles sadly at Draco who gathers himself marginally and nods in reply. _Those eyes…_

Harry sighs.

"Draco…"

"No, Harry, don't. Please? I understand, I do." A light touch on his arm and then it is gone; look, sad eyes and all. The mask is back and Draco is all smiles again, the natural flirt is back. "Now, where is my present?" His eyes flash with mischief, knowing full well that it is a standing order that no one bring gifts. Though Harry bites his lip to stop himself from telling Draco that he would gladly be his gift – he'd even wrap himself in gold paper and thrill at Draco ripping it off in a frenzy.

Instead, he cuffs him over the shoulder, grinning back, putting aside his feelings. "Git," he chides affectionately.

"That will cost you a penalty, Mr. Potter," Draco smirks, and Harry knows that he'll pay it. Anything. Draco will probably come up with something…interesting, and he is willing to play along. There is little enough he can give him as it is, in this, he will gladly give what is asked.

"And what would that be, then?"

Draco thinks for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he gives a tremulous smile. "I want a dance with you, Harry," he says. And all of a sudden the serious face is back, the longing returns and Harry cannot say no. They all know that Draco is gay, he's always been very open about it. He rarely has partners though and suffers the teasing of all their friends about some unrequited love that he is pining over, or how his heart is broken and he's vowed off men altogether.

No one will think twice about him dancing with Harry. He's danced with all of them over the years, male and female. All except Harry.

He nods, adding softly, "I'd like nothing more." He has no idea how he is going to get through a dance holding Draco in his arms and not want more, but he can at least give him this.

They both turn and walk into the restaurant proper, change the topic and Draco becomes the perfect host once more. Ginny is seated at a table with Ron, Hermione, Pansy and Blaise. They are all talking ten to the dozen and laughing when Harry and Draco approach the table. Harry finds his seat, beside Ginny, and he drops a kiss on her head as he sits down. She responds with a tight smile, but she places her hand on his leg and gives it a squeeze.

Greetings are exchanged, Draco being solicitous of Ginny, making sure that she is comfortable, and Harry is grateful that there is no trace of bitterness in Draco's voice when he speaks with her.

"How are you Ginny? You look like you are ready to give birth to another Potter babe any second," he smiles at her with genuine warmth.

Ginny rubs at her stomach, tiredly. "I'm about ready to explode, Draco," she says. "I've had enough of being so big I waddle round the house. I haven't been able to see my ankles for months…"

Harry tunes out. Not that he is heartily sick of listening to her whinge – he isn't - just that he has heard it all before. This is to be their last child; Harry thinks four children are enough for him. He leaves them talking to each other and turns to Hermione, giving her a smile.

"Hermione, you're looking positively radiant."

"So she should, Harry," Ron answers for her, earning him a look from Hermione who rolls her eyes. But she is smiling.

"Ronald and I are finally expecting, Harry," she tells him.

"Congratulations, well done!" Harry exclaims, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, then shaking Ron's hand across the table. He is so happy for his friends; they have been trying for a family for years and had almost given up. He looks at their happy faces and knows exactly how they are feeling; he has had the same feelings when Ginny became pregnant.

The chatter goes on around him as he fills his glass with wine from the bottle on the table and takes a sip. As he is sipping, Hermione leans in close to whisper in his ear.

"What is going on with you and Draco?" she asks and Harry almost chokes on his wine.

"What do you mean?" he hisses back.

"I saw that little interlude in the foyer, Harry. You may be able to fool most people here, but not me. I know you too well. I could see how he looked at you."

Fuck. "There's nothing going on, Hermione. We're just friends, that's all."

She just looks at him. Gives him that look, the one she uses when she knows he is lying to her.

"Honest," Harry reiterates.

"I don't believe you, but alright." She whispers back. "But you should know that he is in love with you."

Harry knows this, also knows that he is in love with Draco, too. But, there is nothing he can do about it. Nothing.

Heart aching, he says what needs to be said. "There is nothing going on and there never will be. Not with him. There could never be anything with him." God…all lies. There could be everything with him.

He is saved any further interrogation by the arrival of their first course, and he gladly takes the interruption, and eats. There are numerous glances across the table to Draco, who is sitting with Ginny on one side of him and a spare seat on the other. He wonders aloud why there is a spare seat.

Blaise answers him. "That's because Draco was supposed to be bringing a date, but it seems that they inconveniently broke up just yesterday, was it Draco?"

Draco nods, sending a frown Blaise's way.

"What was it this time? Was he too clingy, did he not care enough, did he not have the right coloured eyes?" Blaise asks sarcastically and Harry shoots him a narrowed look.

Draco flicks his fork nonchalantly. "Of course, Blaise, darling. How could anyone compete with the men at this table? Would you like a mango?"

Everyone laughs at that, but Harry could swear he heard Blaise mutter something about 'something' not being green enough, underneath all the laughter.

It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth, not the least of which is jealousy that Draco does, on occasion, date other men. Unreasonable jealousy. Then the comments from Hermione and now Blaise; it makes him feel like everybody has been able to see through him all along. Frowning, he looks sideways to Ginny, but finds her deep in conversation with Draco, which is unusual since she always calls him a prat, but he relaxes and vows to be more circumspect in the future.

Once the first course is done with and cleared away, Draco excuses himself to go and mingle with the other guests. As he passes behind his chair, Harry feels the warm touch of Draco's hand on his shoulder, and whilst every atom in his body wants to lean into it, he can't.

After listening to Ron and Blaise discuss the twins' new shop in Paris - they have several shops now and the whole family were becoming very well off - Harry excuses himself to go to the men's room.

The door opens as he is washing his hands in the basin, and Blaise enters and joins Harry.

"Harry," Blaise says.

"Blaise," Harry answers. "Nice evening isn't it?"

The next thing Harry knows, Blaise is in his face, his hand fisted in Harry's shirt. The look on his face is threatening, and he sneers at Harry.

"I hope you realise that by monopolizing Draco, you are stopping him from having a normal life."

"What do you mean?" Harry snaps. "And would you mind getting your hands off me!" he adds as his own hands push Blaise away. Once he has been released, he straightens his shirt and tie and looks furiously at Blaise.

Blaise returns his look with one of dislike. "You know perfectly well, Potter. Draco hasn't had a relationship with anyone that's lasted more than a week. He always finds _something_ wrong with them and dumps them. Then, there's the way every single one of them is a poor replica of…you. The way he looks at you… Anyone would have to be blind not to see how he feels about you."

"I don't…" Harry starts, but Blaise isn't finished, and interrupts him with a shove.

"You've always been the same, Potter. Always have to have all the attention. You're not happy unless you're in the limelight with everyone bowing and scraping to you. Why do you have to have him too? Isn't your family good enough for you?"

"Yes, of course…"

He wants to refute everything Blaise has said, wants to explain, to admit to being in love with Draco. But there is nothing going on, could never be anything between them. And then Blaise dismisses him with a wave of his hand and leaves the room, leaving Harry standing there stunned and hanging onto the sink with both hands.

He gives himself some time to settle down his thumping heart and think. All he wants to do is to go out into that restaurant, grab Draco by the hand and leave with him. Angrily, he bangs his hands down on the edge of the sink, the resulting pain little comfort. He curses everything he can think of; the world, his situation, Ginny, Draco, but most of all he curses himself. After that incredible blow job two years ago, he knows that he should have steered clear of Draco. He knew then that he was treading on dangerously thin ice, but he had ignored that little voice in his head that warned him to stay away.

And he had fallen in love.

.o0o.

_Despite his misgivings, Harry had agreed to meet with Draco for lunch just a week after _that _incident. They'd had fun, just talking, easily sidestepping any topic that might make them feel awkward or uncomfortable and Harry had enjoyed himself immensely. _

_After that, they met every week. On the same day, Wednesday, each week, Harry would Apparate to whichever restaurant they chose and they would eat and talk and laugh and become more and more comfortable with each other. _

_Harry spoke about how much he had always wanted to have a normal life. How he hated the tags he had been given and the expectations of him. Always having to be seen as living a 'wholesome' life, with no cracks for the media pry into. _

_By tacit agreement they did not talk about Ginny, though Harry told stories about his kids as often as he could get away with. Draco smiled and listened with rapt attention, saying that he had always planned for children one day, but with the whole being gay thing, it had been put aside. Harry remembered smiling at the thought of Draco with children and made sure to invite him to the house. _

_Draco had surprised him by entrancing Rosie with stories of Fairy princesses and handsome princes and how they defeated the evil witch and lived happily ever after. Rosie had listened, engrossed and at the end, she had smiled and told Draco that if her daddy hadn't been her prince, then Draco would be, and hugged him. Since that day, Harry had called Rosie his Princess and Harry had been her hero. It was one small way of joining a part of Draco with his life. _

_Draco stopped dating other men; he said that he had no time for it, and when Harry had offered, his heart in his mouth, to stop their weekly luncheons, Draco had looked devastated at the prospect. It gave him a warm glow to think that Draco was beginning to feel the same way. Not that they ever talked about their feelings for each other. Nor did they touch or kiss, or make love. _

_They were just friends. _

_And unless one of them bought it up, all their feelings for each other would remain unspoken and…safe. _

_Until the day that Draco had turned up to lunch, looking like he'd gone a few rounds with a Hippogriff. _

"_Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asked. _

_Draco just shook his head and wouldn't answer. But there was definitely something wrong and so he pressed. _

_Finally, Draco said in a small, defeated voice. "I think I'm going to have to stop seeing you, Harry."_

_Putting aside the pangs in his chest at that statement, Harry frowned. "Why?"_

_Draco looked anywhere but at Harry and started to speak a number of times, then closed his mouth. After about the fourth try, when Harry was just about to grab him and shake him to make him answer, those beautifully expressive eyes looked at him, totally desolate. _

"_I've fallen in love with you, Harry."_

_Harry could see Draco's throat working hard to hold back the tears he could see glinting in his eyes, but he could say nothing. There was nothing for him to say. He realised he was being a coward by not telling Draco how he felt, how every time he saw him, he wanted to take him in his arms and kiss him until they both forgot who they were. _

_All he did was nod, tell Draco that he couldn't imagine not seeing him anymore, that whatever he felt for Harry was not going to change anything; he couldn't lose his friendship. It was all he had of Draco. _

_Then he left, unable to face the ripping of his heart. Incapable of looking into those eyes and not just give him everything he wanted; they both wanted. Powerless to stop the wash of need and hopelessness that came over him when he thought of Draco. _

_That night, he dreamed of silky blond hair splayed on a pillow, framing intense eyes that were full of lust. He saw the expanse of pale skin under his fingertips, covering chest, nipples, down to his stomach where he felt the rippling of muscle. Later he felt the heat and hardness of Draco's cock digging into his stomach, as he lay rocking and thrusting and pumping between Draco's legs. His fingers gripped Draco's with such a ferocity that they creaked and ached._

_When he cried out as he came, he woke, shaking, caught in the grip of a real orgasm that battered against him until he was weak and all he could do was lay there and cry silently for fear of waking his wife as she slept soundly beside him. He cried for his hopeless love for Draco and the inability to surrender and tell him how he felt. _

_He was caught; he couldn't have Draco, but he couldn't let him go either. _

_They still met each week, and worked on making their friendship strong, If sometimes Draco saw the shadows under Harry's eyes, then he said nothing, as if he knew how Harry felt and if he voiced his worries, then something fragile might be broken. And if sometimes Harry let Draco touch him, a gentle caress of his hand or arm, or even brush his hair from his eyes, then who could say they weren't the touches of a friend. _

_They both lived for those touches and as they grew closer, both men welcomed them until they had become instinctive. _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Harry arrives back at the dinner table just as the main course is being served. He slips into the seat beside Ginny quietly, picks up his napkin and places it on his lap. From the corner of his eye, he catches Blaise's frown and fights the stain of a blush from his cheeks. He finds his hand on the wine bottle shaking when Blaise turns to Pansy and whispers in her ear, the content of which causes Pansy to glance at Harry quickly, then away.

He sighs and remains silent, fearing that to say anything at this point would be a provocation and lead to a confrontation he'd rather just not have. Ginny looks at him thoughtfully for a moment; he can feel her eyes on him and he turns to her with a smile.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asks, with her hand on his arm.

"I'm fine, love," he answers with a smile. "How are you doing? Up for a dance with your old husband later on?"

She laughs. "If you can get your arms around this huge belly of mine, I think I can manage it."

"Course I can," he smiles back and tips her chin up to place a quick kiss on her lips. "You know I think you're beautiful when you're pregnant."

It's true, he does and he does love Ginny. She's just not the love of his soul. And there's guilt in that, guilt that he loves someone else - the guilt of an emotional betrayal.

She pats his arm and they eat, conversation dulled a little by the clacking of cutlery, the filling of wine glasses and the consumption of perfectly prepared food. Draco keeps the atmosphere light, telling them tales of customers who overdose on his new anti-aging cream and end up looking younger than their children, and any slight tenseness at the table dissipates.

The music begins after the main course remains are cleared away and Harry leads Ginny to the dance floor and into a waltz. She is still graceful on her feet, though her bulk makes her awkward at times and she feels good in his arms. Lowered lighting and numerous couples on the dance floor make it very romantic and he feels Ginny sigh happily against him.

"We should do this more often," she says, her eyes sparkling into his.

He nods, smiling, promising to himself to take his wife dancing more often after she's recovered from this birth. There is a slight tremor of worry in his chest as he thinks of his dance with Draco later on, but he will face that when the time comes.

They are stopped by a lot of friends, who tap Harry's shoulder to say hello, or just smile at them, and Harry knows that they make a good-looking couple. Even Draco taps Harry on the shoulder while he's dancing with a young male that Harry knows is the manager of one of his stores.

"Don't forget that you have to pay your penalty and whirl me around the dance floor, Harry," he jokes with a wink. Harry laughs and nods and they move on, leaving Harry to explain to Ginny who's looking at him in disbelief.

"He's never managed to get you up to dance with him yet, Harry. Why now?"

Harry laughs. "I called him a git and, well, it's his birthday and I figured I may as well," Harry replies with his heart in his mouth, hoping his explanation satisfies her. It does and she smiles and shakes her head, telling him that he is too nice to everyone and that had Draco been a woman, she might be jealous.

Harry gulps but grins and twirls his wife around the dance floor until the song ends and then leads her back to their table where she is quite happy to sit and chat to other guests. Luna and Neville have joined their table. He shakes Neville's hand, says hello to Luna and spends the next half an hour chatting and catching up with all their news.

However, his mind isn't completely on the two newcomers to the table, his eyes wander to find Draco more than they should, and watch him dance with one person after the other, enjoying himself and effusively kissing his partners thank you after each dance. That Harry sees this only illustrates exactly how much he is watching Draco. He drags his gaze away, realising that he is becoming jealous and not paying proper attention to those around him.

Before he knows it, there are hands on his shoulders and a warm whisper in his ear.

"I think this dance is mine, Mr. Potter."

Harry grins and rolls his eyes, pretending that he feels put upon, when in reality his heart is thumping in a mix of fear and anticipation. The fact that he is going to have the man he is in love with in his arms and dancing around the floor makes him almost giddy, but at the same time, there is real fear there that every emotion he will be feeling will show plainly on his face.

Draco takes his wrist and leads him to the darkened dance floor and slides gracefully into his arms like he _belongs_ there. Harry's breath hitches as his hand entwines with Draco's and his arm encircles Draco's waist, and nothing has ever felt quite like _coming home_ as this has. He's sure that his face is a picture of pure joy and he fights to keep it neutral as they move slowly to the ballad playing.

He can feel the shift of Draco's weight under his hand, the movement of his body as he inches closer to Harry like a magnet. With his eyes closed he inhales the soft scent of Draco, memorising this one time when he can be this close and not have to explain. He reels under the impulse to pull their entwined hands up to his lips, or to lean his forehead against Draco's and spend the dance just drowning in his eyes.

But when Draco rests his head on Harry's shoulder, Harry stiffens. Not because he doesn't want this; he does, and his fingers dig into Draco's back a little, almost as if pulling him closer.

"Draco, people will be watching." He hates to have to say that, and his voice rasps with regret.

The only sign that Draco has even heard him comes as he lifts his head and sighs.

"I wish that I could have you for one night," he whispers. "One night where you could make love to me with more than your eyes."

"Draco…" Harry starts, but is cut off by the defeated frown on Draco's face.

"I know, Harry…I _know_."

Their eyes meet and Harry can see that this is as hard for Draco as it is for him, and his arm pulls him a fraction closer so that their bodies are now touching and they're moving together slower and slower until they are barely swaying. The heat that spreads through Harry at the closeness makes him blush, but he keeps his eyes on Draco's - unable not to.

"I'm sorry."

Draco shifts restlessly in his arms, closes his eyes for a second and purses his lips.

"At least tell me you feel the same."

Harry stays silent, the lump in his throat aching and making it impossible to talk. He could admit to wanting Draco so desperately that he dreamt about him at night; that with just a look, Draco could make him go weak at the knees; that every time he thought of kissing Draco, it was as if everything he had ever known about love and desire was learnt in that thought.

Instead, he looks away, hating himself. "I can't…"

It's a whisper, but it echoes between them when Draco tenses in his arms.

"I've been patient, I haven't pressed," Draco's voice is quiet and still contained, but it is tight with stress.

"I know."

He is unable to say anymore but the heaviness in his heart is building and he really doesn't want to have this discussion, it can only lead to pain and anguish. Harry has almost forgotten that he is in a public place, the feel of Draco in his arms after all this time - properly in his arms - is nearly too much for him to take.

The song ends and they pull apart reluctantly, Draco still holding onto his hand and looking searchingly into his face. "So…?" he says, virtually begging for an answer, and suddenly it becomes too much for Harry and he turns and flees the dance floor, heading for the exit.

He simply cannot stay there and face Draco anymore. To tell him how he feels would just put them both in a worse position; no less hopeless than it is now. No less laced with fear, no safer emotionally. It would do neither of them any good to talk about what they could not change.

And they could not change, he'd made promises, made commitments; he liked his life. He senses rather than sees Ginny returning from the ladies' room, and he takes a quick detour, trying not to look devastated, to tell her that he is going outside for some fresh air.

Not even waiting for her response, he gives her a quick kiss on her forehead and continues outside.

He barely registers the fact that it is raining; such is his need to escape. There is no rational thought about where he is walking to, only to just walk and keep walking until he can walk no more. Find some distance between himself and the situation he's found himself in – no, gotten himself into.

Within a minute he is soaked and finally, when his teeth start chattering, he realises that he's freezing cold. It doesn't stop him, though, he just hunches his shoulders and thinks that maybe he should find his car and sit in that for a while.

It is as he is standing there, looking at all the cars sparkling under light that reflects off the raindrops, that he hears footsteps behind him. When he turns, he knows it's Draco and his shoulders slump in defeat.

"Why did you run out?" Draco asks him, angrily.

Harry stares at him; he doesn't think he's ever seen Draco look like a drowned rat. His hair is hanging in his eyes, dripping water down his nose and over his lips, which spray as he speaks. But his eyes…_oh his eyes…_still burn him and threaten to not only break down his will, but virtually smash it apart.

"I'm sorry," he replies. It's all he can say, all he seems capable of saying but it will never be enough, and he knows it.

"Well, you should be. I'm tired of being in love with you and not at least knowing that you feel the same. You've said nothing and all I have to go on is the look I see in your eyes when you want me. I-I can't…not know anymore, Harry."

Draco's anger is gone now, and if it hadn't been raining, then Harry is positive that he would see that Draco is crying. The plaintive tone of his voice and the misery of that last plea almost break Harry's resolve. He shakes his head, his own eyes pricking with tears, though they're already wet from the rain dripping under his glasses.

"Harry, please…? Please tell me I didn't fall in love on my own?"

And Draco's standing there just in front of him, his heart in his hands and in the shaking of his voice, and Harry sees the desperate pleading in his eyes and he can't not answer him.

A trembling hand reaches out and grabs Draco round the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss even as he whispers. "No, you didn't."

It's so bittersweet this kiss; this last kiss that they will share. Draco's lips are cool, but heated by his cries of relief and they move with Harry's like they had been made for them. Draco's arms snake round Harry's waist, up his back, and bunch up his shirt, like he's hanging on and doesn't plan on ever letting go. They're both wet and cold, yet when their bodies meet at long last, the warmth it generates makes both of them stagger. Harry is clinging desperately to his senses, his lips clinging just as desperately to Draco's. He tastes of… Harry stops kissing and pulls back gasping and breathing heavily. _Oh God_… he tastes of home and peace and fire and desire and the promise of forever, and Harry knows that whatever else happens in his life, he will never ever forget the taste of this; will always yearn for this.

"I love you, Draco," he finally whispers, shaking horribly and knowing that it is not enough - it will never be enough. Their lips meet again, this time less intense, gentler. Their lips explore and savour the sensation of movement and taste, and Harry's hand comes round to cup Draco's jaw as his tongue begins its search. He wants, needs to commit to memory each soft place in Draco's mouth, every ridge and crevice, every sharp tooth, and he allows Draco to do the same, thrilling at how perfect it is.

When he needs to breathe, he reluctantly pulls back, resting his forehead on Draco's, still holding him flush against his body.

"I'm sorry…" It comes out as a gut-wrenching moan, and Harry pulls away, shaking his head.

He turns to walk away. There are a million things he knows he's leaving unresolved, but he has to leave now, or he never will again.

"You're going to tell me that, kiss me like you own me, and then leave?" Draco chokes out and comes after him, grabbing his arm and wrenching him back around to face him. There is disbelief on his face and Harry's heart aches all over again for all the mistakes he's made with Draco. "Why…?" Harry stops him by placing his fingers over Draco's lips.

"No more, Draco. Please, don't ask me…" he whispers, pulls his arm free and leaves, shoulders slumped and head hung low, reciting all the questions he knows Draco wants answers to.

He has answers to none of them.

FIN.

.o0o.

**A/N: **Below are the words to this beautiful song that acted as an inspiration for this story. As you can see it does not have a happy ending, and I'm really sorry that I cannot make it one. Rest assured that I will have stories posted shortly that DO have happy endings.

With the way I have ended it, you can make up your own…sequel as it were, to have it end how you would like. Perhaps Ginny came out and saw them kissing, perhaps Ginny is the one to leave him by falling for someone else. Who knows? It's up to you.

I want to thank all of you who read this and reviewed and thank you all for a warm welcome in my first association with this archive. I have tried to reply to the comments, but as they don't get marked when you reply, I may have missed some. If so, I am truly sorry, but please know that I appreciate every single one of them.

Jamie.

And now, the words.

Please Don't Ask Me by John Farnham (not sure if he wrote the actual song, but his is the version I listened to while writing this.)

Please don't ask me what am I thinking  
It's about you  
And please don't ask me  
I never can see you  
What can I do  
My first impulse is to run to your side  
My heart's not free, and so I must hide  
Please don't ask me  
What I'm gonna say to you  
I toss and turn  
Can't sleep at night  
It's worrying me, I go to bed  
Turn out the light  
But your face I see  
It only hurts  
The more I pretend  
That we could ever  
Be more than friends  
Please don't ask me  
Why I'm so in love with you  
You could easily make me happy  
That I know  
But I try my best to never tell you so  
I will sing to you my love songs  
And pretend but I'll keep my distance right down  
To the end  
Please don't ask me why I'm not talking  
I just can't explain  
And please don't ask me  
Why I go walking out in the rain  
I could not live the lie it would take  
To have you here would be a mistake  
Please don't ask me  
Why I'm so in love with you  
No please don't ask me


End file.
